As I think about what a
blog of this kind might have to offer, the word that continues to come to mind
is the word testimony. To give testimony is to testify to some
conviction or experience you hold. Testimony is a deeply personal matter, but
it can have wide-reaching impact. Testimonies have the power to inspire and
encourage. Testimonies have the power to shape our collective imagination about
what is possible, about what kind of God we’re involved with.
In the Christian
tradition, testimony has played a fundamental role in the life of the church
from the earliest days of the Jesus movement. The New Testament places a great
deal of emphasis on the significance of testimony for the upbuilding and
strengthening of the Christian community.
The Incarnation itself
points to the power of testimony. Eugene Peterson offers a beautiful
interpretation in his translation of John 1:14a (MSG),
“The Word became flesh and blood,
and moved into the neighborhood.”
In other words, Jesus
is the living, breathing testimony of the steadfast love of God. Further, Jesus
shows us what it means for our own lives to become testimonies of hope and
healing.
In the Apostle Paul’s
letter to the Christians in Rome, he expresses a longing to be with them so
that “we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine”
(Rom. 1:12). Paul seems to suggest that the life of faith is not meant to be
lived alone. Rather, the life of faith is meant to be a shared experience. My
faith is in some sense your faith and your faith is in some sense my faith.
There’s something about hearing other’s testimonies that affirms or reminds us
of our own testimony.
MUSTARD SEEDS
I recently came across
an old folktale that speaks to the power of testimony. It’s one of those
stories that stopped me in my tracks. It seems to illuminate some deep truth
about the mystery of existence.
The reader’s digest
version goes something like this:
There once lived a woman whose only child, a very young son,
died tragically. She was understandably distraught over the loss of her young
child. Unable to accept the finality her loss, the woman set off into town to
find anyone who might be able to resuscitate her son.
The woman happened upon a monk who showed compassion toward
her. The monk told the woman he might be able to help craft a medicinal cure,
but she would need to bring him a special ingredient. Elated, the woman
replied, “I’ll do anything. Just tell me, what is the special ingredient?” The
monk said, “You must bring me a handful of mustard seeds from a house that has
been untouched by suffering or death.”
Immediately, the woman began her trek through the village,
stopping door to door in search of the special ingredient. Household after
household was eager to help the woman. They all had plenty of mustard seeds to
give. But not one household had been untouched by suffering and death.
And yet, as her search unfolded, something unexpected,
miraculous even, began to happen. As the woman shared her plight and heard each
of her neighbors’ own stories of loss, the painful burden within her heart
slowly began to lighten.
The woman returned to the monk empty handed, but with
newfound strength. She buried her son with an understanding that she was not
alone in her grief.
The woman in the
folktale unexpectedly discovers a degree of healing in her neighbor’s
testimonies of loss. There’s strength to be found in one another’s stories.
MAKING ROOM FOR TESTIMONY
Churches rarely provide
space for testimony anymore. In our Sunday worship, we hear the Scriptures and
the preacher testify of God’s faithfulness and steadfast love. But how often do
we hear such testimonies from our fellow sisters and brothers in Christ? I don’t
know about you, but sometimes I feel starved for proof of God’s presence in our
lives. Sometimes I need to be reminded that the steadfast love of God is found
not just in the words of Scripture, but in the nitty-gritty of our lives.
Jesus once said that if
we have the faith of a mustard seed we can move mountains (Mt. 17:20). But
there are times in our lives when, if we’re honest, we can barely muster up a
faith the size of a mustard seed.
Life is full
indescribable joy and unspeakable sorrow. When we find ourselves more on the
side of sorrow, even a mustard seed of faith can be hard to come by. And it’s
in these moments that testimony is so important. When I have no testimony of my
own to give, the testimonies of others remind me of God’s presence even in the
midst of pain.
Like the woman in the
folktale, testimony that heals doesn’t come from those who have no suffering to
speak of. Rather, testimony that heals comes from those who have experienced
suffering of their own, but have somehow found resilience in spite of it.
Testimonies that heal speak to the resurrection power of a God made known in
Jesus Christ.
My hope for this blog
is that it might become a space where we find mutual encouragement in each
other’s faith, to use Paul’s words again (Rom. 1:12). I believe this blog can
be a source of much needed testimony where, like the woman in the folktale, we
find healing and hope in each other’s stories.
If you have a testimony
to share of God’s presence in your life, please get in touch! Your story may be
the healing balm that someone else needs.
Pastor Garrett Rea 10 October 2018
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